


Of Cats and Food

by Kamikaze_Embers



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Cat/Human Hybrids, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:31:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamikaze_Embers/pseuds/Kamikaze_Embers
Summary: Brownie can turn into a cat.  He doesn't do it often and gets stuck.On top of that, he accidentally gets picked up by a shelter, assumed to be a stray.B-52 never planned to adopt a pet, but the cat in the picture was no doubt striking.[AU idea from Discord.]





	Of Cats and Food

A light brown cat had just been brought into the shelter. With no collar, chip or any type of identification, the cat was believed to be a stray. 

They called him "Chocolate".

B-52 happens to pass by the shelter on his way home. The poster of the stray cat catches his attention. Perhaps it's the cat's sky blue eyes, the bright color standing out against the ruffled deep tan fur. He decides to go take a look for himself.

"Chocolate, huh?" He murmurs, looking at the cat. The person looking after the cats that day allows him to hold the cat in his arms. The cat- Chocolate- rubs against B-52's mechanical arm, ignoring the glaring fact that it's not real and is just cold metal with a circuit going through it. 

Such a simple act, yet it melts B-52's heart. His eyes tear up slightly. So many had either scorned him for his appearance, or treated him like a mindless fighting machine.

He hadn't planned on adopting a pet, but he'd be damned to not bring this one home. 

"I want to take this one home with me." He decides after a pause. Filling out the paperwork is tedious and frustrating for him, but when he looks over at Chocolate, who tilts his head in response, the usually cold food soul can't help but let his expression melt into a soft smile.

Once he's done, he scoops up the pet again. "I don't think Chocolate suits you as a name, little one." He whispers, scratching just behind his ears.

The cat seems to agree, meowing quietly. B-52 sighs softly, petting the cat gently.

"I got it. I'll call you...Brownie." He says at last. It's almost as lame as Chocolate, maybe even more so. But it seems to fit the feline much better.

The cat- now dubbed 'Brownie'- purrs in what seems like agreement. B-52 smiles and carries him home.

B-52 quickly arrives at the conclusion that Brownie isn't an ordinary cat. Or maybe he is- B-52 never had any other pets, so who was he to call Brownie weird?

It is nice, though- having someone who is different from the norm.  
Someone more like the cocktail himself.

He smiles as he ties the pastel ribbon around the cat's neck.

 

"B-52. You're crazy. He's just a cat." His aunt, Vodka, complains, downing her second glass. He considers her his aunt, but they probably aren't related. 

Brownie watches her with unblinking teal eyes. His ears twitch as B-52 scratches his head carefully. Putting her glass down, she sighs and looks at the cat.

Something is off, she decides after a pause. The cat looks at Vodka, almost as if he could understand her. 

Brownie is reclusive and downright avoidant towards other people. Yet he will gladly curl up in B-52's lap and fall asleep, purring loudly. 

Toys do nothing for the feline, either. All attempts leave Brownie giving B-52 the cat equivalent of a glare. Almost as if he saw the toys as beneath him.

 

One late night, B-52 returns home from a long day of work. Upon arriving, he hears something- or someone- moving about in his house.

Did someone break in?  
He tests the door- still locked. He unlocks it quietly, hardly daring to breathe. He slowly picks up his beloved cane and suddenly, a sweet smell hits him.

Who breaks into someone's house to make food? He wonders, cautiously walking towards the kitchen, bracing himself to attack.

"Hey, what are you d-" He stops midsentence as he stares at the other.

Those teal blue eyes. Somewhat messy brown hair the color of a certain cat's fur.

It doesn't make sense. Is he- 

"Brownie?"  
"B-52. Welcome back." 

His voice is barely louder than a whisper, soft like a late summer night's gentle breeze. He wears a cute little dark grey hat held in place by a pale red ribbon. He wears a grey vest over an off-white dress shirt. A pastel ribbon eerily similar to the one the feline wore is tied around his neck. He has on soft, white gloves, a red-striped apron and dark grey-blue jeans. His shoes are a warm brown color, shining in the faint light of the oven.

Speaking of, the strange person pulls out a pan from it. Setting it on the stove top, he looks back at B-52 calmly.

"I made you some brownies. I find them comforting. Perhaps you will as well."

B-52 walks over, stopping as he stares into the shorter male's eyes. He knows he isn't drunk, nor is he dreaming, but none of this feels real. He touches Brownie's cheek. Warm. Soft.

"If you're wondering about the cat, well, that's something I did accidentally. I was worried I'd never be able to turn back into a human. Thank you, B-52. If you want, I can leave-"

"Please, stay." B-52 murmurs, pressing his forehead against the other's. "You were the first to treat me like a normal person, you know. So thank you, Brownie."

The shorter male can't help but grin. "Then it's decided. I'll stay here with you."

B-52 smiles and hugs him tightly.  
"We should probably eat those brownies you made soon. They'll get cold and stiff and you'll have wasted your time making them."

"Agreed. Let's eat. I was getting sick of cat food anyway."

They both laugh, the sound warm and unfamiliar to B-52. The warmth races through him like electricity in a circuit, leaving him tingly all over. The other's laugh makes him think of a warm spring day, perhaps the chirping of birds. If spring days and summer nights had a sound, it would be that laugh.

That night, they are curled up together. B-52 trails his mechanical hand through the other's hair and Brownie purrs. The sound makes him grin, his own ice blue eyes sparkling in the faint ray of moonlight shining in from the closed blinds.

That night, he finally slept peacefully, his night terrors subsiding as he held onto Brownie.


End file.
